The House in the Blizzard
by snowflake98
Summary: What happens first: Deidara sees his name in the dedication of a novel. What happens next: a stranger buys him coffee and explains that they're married, in the future. ItaDei


**I'm sorry it's taken me so long to post another story, but I finally did and that's all that really matters. Enjoy this.** **:)**

**Think: The Time Traveler's Wife.**

* * *

It's a funny thing, the power of suggestion. Deidara's got memories so fuzzy that he doesn't even understand them, but the second someone else talks about things he's done everything pops into place. After his mother speaks about apple orchards, he suddenly "remembers" the colour of his shirt the day they visited. After a childhood friend talks about the hurricane a few years back, he "recalls" vividly the feel of the mud on his toes the day after.

Right now, the power of suggestion is failing him.

"You're every bit as beautiful as when I met you," the thin man in front of him says. Deidara's nose wrinkles at the words and he shifts his hands around the cup of hot chocolate in front of him. It's cold outside, the winter of his 23rd year, and he has never heard such an adoring tone. Not directed at him, at least.

"I don't think we've ever met, sir," he replies. The man wears a black jacket with a fur-lined hood, left down to show his long black hair in a ponytail. His hands are fragile, as if they would break if he touched them. His right hand rests on the table between his body and Deidara's, and the other is curved around the man's iced cappuccino, adorned by a diamond ring. The gems of it are aligned into the shape of a belt buckle. It's worn on his middle finger, the way high-schoolers used to wear rings so they'd have an excuse to flip people off. Deidara looks back at those years and remembers not needing an excuse.

"The name is Itachi Uchiha," the man says, and, oh, he sees the way Deidara's eyes widen. "We haven't met before this, not really. But you know who I am, and I know who you are."

Deidara does. A few years ago, he was in a book store with one of his friends—Sasori, that was his name. It was chance that Sasori picked up that book, that he was even interested in it; it wasn't the kind of thing Sasori read. Deidara even said that, once he responded to the hand on his shoulder and the pointed look Sasori gave him.

Sasori ignored the comment. Instead he asked, "Your name's kind of rare, isn't it?" and flipped the book towards Deidara, pointing to Deidara's name.

Deidara's name.

On the second page of that flimsy paperback was _Deidara's name_. "This book is dedicated to Deidara Iwa," Sasori read. "May we meet again."

It was coincidence. It must have been. There must have been some other Deidara Iwa in this world that did things worthy of having such well-written books dedicated to him. Deidara told himself these things over and over, but he still bought the book, he still spent hours reading it. It was an inconsequential story, about a man traveling the world to find somewhere he belonged, and finally finding that it was not in a place but with a person. It was nothing Deidara hadn't seen or read before, but it had his name in it—and for some reason, the author's name stuck in his mind and refused to leave.

"You're a writer," Deidara says presently. The hints of a knowing smile rise in Itachi's eyes, and Deidara feels anger. He's always hated being left out of things, and that extends to this situation. "Explain how you know me," he demands.

Itachi doesn't respond at first. The smile remains, aggravating still, but as the seconds stretch on Deidara starts to feel different. Not angry anymore-uncomfortable now. The emotion on the stranger's face is more complex than just the arrogance that usually pisses Deidara off. "I forgot," Itachi says smoothly. "You don't like places like this, do you? Don't worry, you'll get used to them. In two years, this cafe will be your favourite."

There's something about those lines that really unsettles Deidara. Itachi is drinking from his cup now, and Deidara glances around the cafe in the seconds where neither of them is talking. There's not enough people in here to make him feel safe. For all he knows, this man is a stalker. In fact, this man is _likely _to be a stalker. "May we meet again," the dedication had said, and if Deidara thinks too hard about the words Itachi said just now, he knows he'll hear a threat in them. It's not usually that hard to make Deidara suspicious, anyway.

He wraps his hand around his hot chocolate, shakily, and begins to stand. "I should probably lea-"

Itachi sees the movement before he hears the words, and, in one wild second, the panic in Itachi's eyes stops Deidara's heart. "No, don't," Itachi says. He reaches towards Deidara, but catches himself before he makes contact, relaxing slowly, although his hand drops back to the table almost immediately. Startled by the sudden action, Deidara falls back into his seat. Itachi stops leaning against the back of the booth and sits straight, moving closer to the table, closer to Deidara. "Sorry, sorry," he says. "I know this is weird. I just need you to do something for me. Give me your hand?"

He holds out the one with the ring. Deidara eyes the gold underside of it nervously, reluctant to agree. He doesn't know what the man's been touching, and no matter how well groomed Itachi looks, he's probably full of germs.

"They're clean," Itachi says.

"I know. I didn't say they weren't!" Deidara exclaims. As if it's not enough to have a smartass attitude, the man has to know what Deidara's thinking, too! In an effort to make it look like he wasn't actually thinking about the sanitation of Itachi's skin, he quickly lays his hand in Itachi's.

Instantly, as if triggered by touching Itachi, the edges of Deidara's vision become blurred and start swirling around themselves. He makes as if to take his hand back, but Itachi only smiles and intertwines their fingers firmly, effectively holding Deidara's hand in place. Itachi looks like he doesn't smile often, but Deidara returns the look anyway, if only out of obligation. He is holding hands with a man he just met, so he feels like he should do something.

Deidara can only see clearly if he really focuses now, and it would really be nice if that would stop, because it's freaking him out. He scoots closer to the edge of the booth and takes his cocoa with the hand that's not in Itachi's death-grip. "Alright," he says nervously, "it was nice meeting you, but I'm going to go now."

"Sorry, no," Itachi says, and when he shakes his head, a silence falls over everything but the two of them. None of the people around them make noise. The sounds from the movement of air are gone, there are no footsteps, no shutting door. Everything is gone except for them and maybe one other noise... the ticking of a clock, centered above and behind Deidara. Itachi tilts to the side to look around the blonde to see it, to fixate on it. After a second of the silence, a throbbing builds up in Deidara's head, amplified by the way everything in the backdrop of the café begins to move.

"We're both going to go somewhere," Itachi says. Deidara tries to protest, but his whole body seems to have gone limp. Itachi's hand is the only thing holding him up.

The sound of the clock crescendos and spirals until it's in time with the dizzy pulse of Deidara's heartbeat in his head. "You might want to leave your cocoa here," Itachi says, an amused tone dancing in his voice. Unable to do anything else, Deidara loosens and opens the hand around the paper cup.

And then trips. Itachi catches him and they twirl with the force of impact as Itachi tries to keep them steady. They're knee deep in snow and everything Deidara sees is either white or a dead tree.

"What the fuck," he says. Itachi's gathered him up in his arms and is clutching him tight. It's freezing, and the icy wind renders his word inaudible. He begins to shiver as the cold sets in his skin, only seconds after being exposed to it. Itachi lays his head in the juncture between Deidara's neck and shoulder, still holding them up against Newton's First Law. He murmurs something, but then lets go.

"Alright, follow me," he says, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. "Don't be too surprised at this."

Deidara is not where he was two seconds ago and Itachi expects him to just not be surprised?! "You bastard," he says, crossing his arms over his chest and chattering his teeth. "What kind of sick joke is this?"

Itachi turns, the snow collapsing under his feet. Deidara feels inexplicably like crying. Maybe it's a side effect of the headache that appeared and disappeared so quickly. Maybe he's already crying; that would explain the ice on his cheeks. It can't be real—they have not just appeared in the middle of a snowstorm when it wasn't even cloudy outside the cafe.

"You believe in time travel, right?" Itachi brushes his dark hair out of his face and speaks loudly in an effort to be heard over the wind. "You're going to freeze if you stay here. Come on, it's not that far, just up the hill!"

"You're fucking crazy!" Deidara yells, but Itachi only reaches out his hand. Deidara's shoes are soaked through from the snow (ruined, they're ruined!) and he's never been so cold in his life; it's hard to trust Itachi, but it's even harder to trust himself right now. Doubt encases him and he stumbles forward to grasp Itachi's freezing fingers.

"Pick up your feet," Itachi says. "The snow gets deep here!"

Deidara does as he's told. "Sorry, but—" he calls out. The wind whistles through his ears. "Mr. Uchiha—"

"Itachi, call me Itachi, Dei!"

"Itachi!" Deidara bursts, angrily. It's no easier to hear Itachi now that they're an armspan away from each other. "Time travel? This is ridiculous! Where are you taking me?!"

He almost trips again (and this time Itachi wouldn't have been able to catch him), but manages to stay upright. "It's right there!" Itachi yells.

"What?" Deidara finally forces his head up and blinks his eyes against the snow. The glow of several orange-yellow lights on a wind-whipped, snow-whipped building catch his eyes. "Who builds a house on a fucking hill like this, out in the fucking middle of nowhere?" He was utterly unprepared for all of this to happen and it's causing his swearing gland to act up. How does one even prepare to time-travel, anyway?

Oh no, there it is. The adrenaline is bursting through his veins, and he's starting to honestly believe it, that he's traveled through time. It's impossible, and he's only setting himself up for failure, and—

and oh, his heart hasn't beat so fast in a long time.

Itachi grips his hand tighter and Deidara's feet touch concrete as they inch closer to the building, the back entrance to which is a glass door. It's covered by brown patterned curtains, and they're a little distasteful. Itachi knocks twice, solidly, and huddles into himself with his back to the wind. Deidara takes his hand back and vainly tries to rubs feeling into his arms. Itachi knocks again, then tries to open it himself. It's locked, apparently. "Where are we, what is this?" Deidara whines. If they'd gone around the other side of the house, they'd be sheltered from the wind, but no. Itachi can apparently time-travel, but he can't use logic.

Itachi says something, but Deidara hardly even registers it, because at that moment the ugly brown curtains are pushed aside and a tall figure stands behind the glass door. Blonde hair, strikingly blonde. Blue eyes like stained church windows. It's himself. It's undeniably himself.

The mirror image flips the lock and pulls Deidara inside, along with a gust of icy wind that melts as soon as it touches the warm interior of the house. Itachi shuts the door securely behind them, re-locking it.

"Deidara!" the duplicate practically squeals. He lifts Deidara off of his feet in an embrace. They are almost exactly the same height; maybe, just maybe, one of them has a centimeter on the other. "I'm so glad to see you, it's been a while." The doppelganger looks him over once, and then hugs the stunned and frozen Deidara again.

"Deidara," Itachi says softly, bringing both of their attentions back to him. He puts his hands up, palms out placatingly, and speaks as if Deidara is a small child. "This is you, 9 years older than you are now." He lets the words sink in for a moment as Deidara goes limp in his older self's arms, then he turns and pulls the curtains over the door again. "I don't think anyone else is coming?"

Older Deidara shakes his head. "Not that I know of," he says. "Nine years? You're only 23 now? We have a lot of catching up to do!" Deidara finds the strength in his legs to support himself—but wait, wasn't he technically already doing that? It's all so confusing—and Older Deidara lets go. He adopts a thinking expression, one finger raised in the air as if to point something out. "I know what you're thinking," he says slowly, his eyebrows lifting in realization. "The curtains, that's what it was. Don't worry, your taste hasn't changed; those are Itachi's!"

Itachi laughs a little. Deidara is speechless.

Older Deidara smiles. They really are the same person. Oh dear god. "Sorry, it's a little too much, right? I know! Would you like some hot chocolate? We've got a lot to talk about. Let's start with the rings," he says, and he flashes his middle finger with a cheeky grin. There's a ring on it. A ring matching Itachi's.

Deidara isn't prone to passing out, but there is a first for everything.

* * *

"I knew it would happen, and I still..." It's his own voice speaking, but his mouth isn't moving. He remembers everything before he even opens his eyes, and he groans. His head is resting on someone's lap; the person shifts their legs as Deidara begins to move.

The same person lays their hand on top of Deidara's forehead. It's Older Deidara (and there is no better name for him), as Deidara sees when he flicks open his eyes. "Are you okay?" the older version of him asks. "I didn't let you drop on the floor." That much is true; he's safely on the couch, and he's not in pain, so he has no reason not to believe it. He looks up into his own eyes, then pulls himself into a sitting position and moves to the other side of the couch, hugging his knees to his chest.

He needs to think. The book with his name, the leap of faith, the leap in time, the rings. The two of him. The _multiple _of him—it's too much.

Older Deidara tries to scoot closer to him, but Deidara just scoots further away, so both of them stop, as a compromise. "I know it's a lot to take in at one time," Older Deidara says. "I went through it myself, so I really sympathize with you." An exact replica of Deidara's hand (plus one diamond ring) lays itself on Deidara's shoulder.

"Just remember that we chose for this to happen. I wouldn't exist otherwise." The hand removes itself, and then resets itself in his hair. Itachi is leaning on the back of the sofa, watching the proceedings. The room is warm, much warmer than outside. It has a fireplace. Deidara has never even _been_ in a house with a fireplace before.

It is quiet. Itachi walks around the couch and falls into line in the gap next to the older Deidara. It's as if he belongs there. The place gets warmer. Deidara lifts his head, almost startled by the movement, but neither of them are paying attention to him anymore. Their hands are locked together on Itachi's thigh, Itachi's head on the older Deidara's shoulder.

"I have to go soon," Itachi murmurs. "Dunno when I'll be back. I'll miss you." He smiles sadly, but his eyes are unfocused, and he closes them to pull Older Deidara to him in a hug and press their cheeks together.

Older Deidara breathes deep, reciprocating the embrace. "You have me," he says. "I'm going back with you."

"Technically." Itachi closes his eyes, and the moment is over. "Deidara, we're going soon," he says. There's no question between the two of them as to which one he's addressing. The hand that Itachi offers is cool (cold hands means warm hearts), and Deidara lays his fingers lightly in Itachi before he's even asked.

Deidara stands, along with his older self, who envelops him in another hug. He can't imagine growing to be quite so touchy-feely. "Can you imagine what that's like?" Older Deidara asks. "Meeting your husband and having to court him all over again. Watch him closely, now. You're going to have to do the same thing in a few years."

And that's it. Itachi says, "Goodbye," the room shakes, and Deidara is back in that coffee shop, hand clenching suddenly too-tight against the hot chocolate. Still hot. Itachi disentangles their fingers, his eyes flicking back down from the clock. "I'm getting better all the time," he murmurs, reaching for his iced drink. "At most, a fraction of a second off."

* * *

"Don't feel pressured into it," Itachi says. They're out of the coffee shop already; Deidara's shaking in the chill outside, but he knows it's nothing compared to the freezing winds of the snowstorm he was just in.

He ruffles the collar of his jacket, pulling it tight around his neck to protect himself from the cold as Itachi follows him in hot pursuit. "How am I not supposed to feel pressured, Itachi?" he asks. Like his older self said—eventually, he acquiesces to it. The proof was that a future like the one he saw existed. "No matter what happens, no matter what I do, I'm going to end up being that person in the house in the blizzard. Right? Is that how the future works?"

"If you think about it that way, yes. Technically." Deidara comes to a full stop in the middle of the busy sidewalk and turns to stare point-blank at Itachi. He struggles for words, but ends up only making a panicked gesture and promptly turning back around to walk away again. He doesn't get much farther than arm's length. Itachi grabs at his shoulder as if he's scared to let Deidara escape. Wild animal Deidara, that's him, ready to bolt at the first sign of conflict.

He shrugs Itachi off, but the burning fear of loss in Itachi's eyes slows him down to the point where he's not moving at all, just standing by the indent in the street-corner pavement where the crosswalk begins. Around them, people buzz and bustle, unaware of the conversation. "Listen to me," Itachi says. "Your choices and your actions will lead you to that point in time. So, yes, you will become that Deidara. But free will is what will get you there."

Itachi's voice has steadily risen from a normal speaking voice, but it sounds as if he's unaccustomed to speaking loudly. Deidara rubs his eyes, exhausted with the recent events, then puts his face in his hands. Home. He just wants to go home so he can think this through. He goes to leave again, but Itachi presses his fingers to Deidara's elbow, uncertain, unable to reach his shoulder and grab hold of him. "Dei," he says. "don't. Please. Don't just walk away."

The fear in Itachi's voice reaches levels previously unseen. Deidara bats the hand away, angry, but ends up grabbing the man's arms and squeezing tight. Itachi grabs back, surprised. Deidara tries to work out what he's going to say, when all of a sudden Itachi's words echo in his head.

"Dei?" he asks.

"Dei?" Itachi repeats, just as confused. He searches Deidara's eyes frantically for some explanation of what he's thinking, but Deidara can't move.

"Nobody is allowed to call me Dei unless they know me really well," Deidara says, his eyebrows furrowed. The silence extends past just them. "But, but you can calm down, because I'm not about to beat you over the head for saying that," he adds, when he notices Itachi's incredibly tense position. The man is afraid of losing him-and you can't lose what you don't already have. He has a relationship with Itachi, it's undeniable, unbreakable now because it has already been formed. Deidara loosens his grip and stuffs his hands back into his pockets, but Itachi doesn't know what to do with his. They stay in the air where Deidara had momentarily held them. "I mean, I realized, just now—you love that me in the future." His voice lowers, goes deep as he reaches deep inside himself. "You're committed to him."

Itachi nods, slowly, still worried.

"So." Deidara chooses his words carefully. Which he never does, because they're only words, right? But they seem important right now, it feels as if the power in these words is unspeakable. "So, tell me more about you. It's not... it doesn't seem fair for you to know all these secrets, when I hardly even know who you are. I want to get to know you."

"And maybe, if you want to," Deidara adds, cutting in before Itachi can respond, "we could go get coffee again, sometime." He is going to end up in love with this person. He is going to end up in love with Itachi, and married to him, and they are going to wear their rings on their middle fingers as a big fuck-you to the space-time continuum.

"Because," he says, softer now, unafraid of it, "I could learn to like those types of places."


End file.
